


Thank You, Tom Brady

by brittahkiin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Smut, i love this so much, superbowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittahkiin/pseuds/brittahkiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patriots vs Seahawks, rematch of the century. Now where did Clarke put her lucky jersey?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You, Tom Brady

**Author's Note:**

> so this was a headcanon for Elyza Lex and Alicia Clark for @lexacares on tumblr, but since Elyza is Australian and all that jazz, i decided to do Clexa. 
> 
> also because my girlfriend and i love football. and the Patriots. and Tom Brady.
> 
> please ignore any errors n junk, i tried to read over it the best i could.

It was Superbowl Sunday and Clarke was losing her absolute mind. She never threw a party for the game because she never wanted anyone to see how animalistic she gets with football. It wasn’t until Lexa came along that anyone witnessed this random happening. It also doesn’t help that Clarke’s all time favourite team, the New England Patriots, were in the game. Clarke was talking about it nonstop for weeks, ever since the playoffs started. She shouted during every game, causing Lexa to jump at every moment. She would go on about this “deflategate” scandal from a couple years ago, but Lexa never focused much on it to be able to even explain it. 

Apparently deflated footballs are considered cheating? 

Clarke was game ready. Patriots versus Seahawks, Superbowl 49 rematch. This game was going to be huge. 

She has everything prepared. The chips, the salsa, the little cheese and meat platter, various booze. Everything. All she needs is her jersey.

She jumps up from the couch and sprints to the bedroom just around the corner and pulls open her closet door. She wades through the clothes to where the jersey would be and- it’s gone.

“What?” she asks, ripping the clothes back and forth, “No! No no no! That’s my lucky jersey, we’ve gone undefeated all season I need that jersey! We’re so close to knocking off the ‘72 Dolphins!” 

The blonde begins to yank everything out of the closet, tossing it onto the floor behind her. Everything. Her stuff, Lexa’s stuff, Raven’s stuff which is for some reason there. No jersey.

“Lexa?” she calls, her head buried in the closet, “Have you seen my Brady jersey? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Lexa, standing in the kitchen just a bit away, wipes her hands on the towel hanging from the oven door and walks to the bedroom. 

“No,” she responds, leaning on the door frame as she watches Clarke’s mess grow, “But I really hope you’re cleaning all of this up.” 

Clarke glares at the brunette over her shoulder, standing up from the mess and groans. 

“We’re going to lose,” she holds her head in her palms, “The Seahawks will eat us for breakfast. I swear, it’s all because I lost my jersey. How can I even do that? I always put it back!”

Sliding her phone out of her back pocket, Lexa eyes the screen. 5:38pm, the game comes on in an hour. How long could it really take for her to figure out the plan? Lexa gnaws on her bottom lip, trying to figure out a potential distraction. 

“Babe, don’t you have just a Patriots shirt?” she asks, turning to the dresser, “You could wear that. Maybe that’ll be just as good.”

Clarke’s head snaps up and she rushes to the dresser almost knocking Lexa out of the way in the process, and nearly tears the drawers from the thing itself. She pulls her shirt from within and holds it up to her chest. It’s just a simple, navy blue shirt with the Patriots’ logo on the front. She grins, changing into it, and kisses Lexa on the cheek before zipping into the living room. 

Lexa releases the breath she was holding and quietly goes to her bag in the corner of the room, reaching inside, and unfolding the jersey. She grins to herself, looking over the jersey. 

Clarke told her that there was no way in hell that she would ever miss a Patriots game, let alone the Superbowl. She decided that was a challenge. She has been sitting on this idea since December. She noticed every time Clarke pulled the jersey out and put it away. She noticed how she would thank the damn thing after every win. This jersey was her lifeline. 

The fact that she managed to snag the jersey right out from Clarke’s nose was amazing nonetheless. 

“Hey, the pregame is on!” Clarke shouts, turning the television up. Lexa shakes her head and chuckles, putting the jersey back into the bag and walks to the living room to join her girlfriend. 

Clarke was positioned on the edge of the couch, remote in a vice grip in hand, glued to the screen. 

After an hour of Clarke explaining various talks, booing over the commenter’s picks of the other team, and generally not paying attention to Lexa, the girl leaves the room. Clarke didn’t even notice, stuffing her face with the snacks from the coffee table in front of her. 

It wasn’t until ten minutes into the game that she noticed the brunette wasn’t next to her. She shrugs, maybe she went to the bathroom?

“Yeeees!” Clarke shouts, jumping up and down, “Touchdown, Patriots! That QB sneak was gorgeous, Brady. You beautiful, hunk of man!”

She victoriously fist pumps in the air as the men on screen celebrate, jumping on each other and shouting. 

Lexa stands just around the corner and out of sight, playing with the hem of the jersey itself. She looks down to her feet, seeing her bare, tanned legs and takes a deep breath. She hears the sound of the black leather couch pressing against Clarke and takes that as her signal.

“Go Pats?” Dammit, she should’ve sounded more excited. She turns around the corner and Clarke’s eyes widen. 

That’s my jersey.

That’s my girl.

That’s my girl in my jersey.

“Oh lord,” Clarke mumbles, looking Lexa up and down as she licks her lips, “I don’t know whether to be angry at you for hiding my jersey, or love you for looking so good in it.”

Lexa smiles, “Hopefully the second one.”

She advances toward her sitting girlfriend, hiking up the jersey, and straddles Clarke. Clarke’s hands immediately reach up and grab Lexa’s ass, still in awe over her in the jersey. 

“Do you know how hot you look right now?” she asks, rubbing up and down her back, “I would’ve given you that thing forever ago if I knew this.”

Lexa scoffs, “And give up the opportunity to have you miss the Superbowl? Please.” 

Clarke freezes for a second, peering around the girl in her lap, and tries to make a decision. Football or sexy girlfriend?

“Come on blondie,” Lexa teases, “this isn’t even a hard decision."

Clarke lifts Lexa up and tosses her onto the cushions next to her, crashing into her and capturing her lips against her own. Her hand glides up Lexa’s legs, stopping at her hips, and pushes her against the couch. 

Lexa pulls away and turns her head, trying to hold back any noises she’d make. She bites her bottom lip to muffle her moans, much to Clarke’s dislike. She reaches up with her other hand to Lexa’s mouth, running her thumb against the captured lip, gently pulling it from between Lexa’s teeth. She attacks Lexa’s neck, covering every inch of her visible skin with kisses and bites, while moving her thumb into Lexa’s mouth. 

The brunette’s lips wrap around the digit, her tongue lightly grazing the pad of the print. Clarke groans, grinding her hips into Lexa’s center. The texture of her jeans rub against Lexa in the most heavenly way possible and she rocks again, pressing harder this time. 

“Sh-it,” Lexa moans, feeling her wetness begins to soak a spot on Clarke’s jeans, “In.” She sucks at Clarke’s thumb before forcing it from her mouth. Clarke nuzzles her nose into Lexa’s shoulder, the hand that was once on the girl’s hips now dips between her legs. Lexa lets another moan slip, jutting her hips forward for more contact. Nimble fingers find her clit with ease, rubbing up and down on the hardening nub. Lexa hisses, silently chanting her pleas for more. 

Behind the girl, the tv roars with applause as the Patriots get another touchdown. Clarke doesn’t even blink or turn her head at the commotion as she coats her fingers in Lexa’s juices. She brings her hand up from between her girlfriend’s thighs, and slips the two digits into her mouth. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” she whispers against her own hand, cleaning both of them off, “I love having you in my mouth.” 

Lexa pushes at Clarke’s shoulders, edging her to begin to her attack. Clarke follows the hint and trails down Lexa’s body, admiring the jersey on her as she goes. She slides the fabric up an inch or two and sighs happily. 

She wastes no time, flattening her tongue against Lexa’s entrance and running it up to her clit and back. Lexa’s hands bury themselves in Clarke’s hair, holding her in place as she teases her. She dips the tip of her tongue into her, causing Lexa to take a sharp intake of breath, but slips back out and continues the onslaught. All she tastes is Lexa, her arousal for her and only her. 

Clarke lifts her head for a moment, “Thank you, Tom Brady,” and goes back to devouring the beauty before her. 

Lexa wants to react to the random comment, but she’s too busy focusing on the budding orgasm welling inside of her. She feels it in the pit of her stomach and it starts to spread, down her legs and to the tips of her toes. Her mouth opens, her eyes clamp shut. 

“Jesus,” she calls out, “don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

Clarke grins against the brunette’s core and begins to lap furiously at her clit. Lexa whimpers and quivers as she reaches the peak Clarke lead her to, begging for release.

“Please, baby,” she’s breathless, “keep going. Let me have this. Please.”

The tv roars yet again, Patriots scoring yet again. Clarke mentally laughs to herself, they weren’t the only ones scoring. She wraps her hands around Lexa’s thighs to hold her in place as she eats her out. Her jaw begins to ache from the attack, but she ignores the dull pain. 

“Fuh-uck,” Lexa draws out as she tips off the peak and rides her orgasm out against Clarke’s face. The blonde continues to lick, sliding her tongue up and down, until Lexa untangles her fingers from her head. She pulls away from her, kissing her pubic bone, and sits back on her legs. 

Lexa opens her eyes, barely being able to focus on the girl in front of her. All she can make out is the lopsided smile she knows as Clarke’s “I won” face. 

“Oh, baby,” Clarke’s voice like velvet, “It’s only half time and we’re up eighteen to zero. We need to keep this up. You’re my new good luck charm.”

Lexa forces her legs even wider, “Thank you, Tom Brady.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me:  
> twitter: @brittahkiin  
> writing tumblr: brittwritesshit.tumblr.com  
> main tumblr: brittahkiin.tumblr.com
> 
> like what you read? help me by supplying me with caffeine! ko-fi.com/brittahkiin


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